


Questionable Snemon

by BastardCrowley



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Affection, Drinking, Gentle, I apparently write like a toddler, I need punk/rocker crowley in my life, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Other, Questionable fashion, Swearing, i didn't know what the fuck to call THAT, just kill me pls, rated D for Dumb, snashion, sneans, snemon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 04:19:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19760455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BastardCrowley/pseuds/BastardCrowley
Summary: Rome had been the first time that Aziraphale had noticed something a little off about Crowley, and if he had known it would go the way it would, maybe he’d have mentioned something, or perhaps not. But alas, Aziraphale had kept quiet, thinking that it was polite to just accept the new little changes, and to act as if there was nothing new.Or, where I got a really dumb idea and ended up writing for the first time in over 4 years.





	Questionable Snemon

Aziraphale was being tortured, there’s no other way you could describe it. It all had started off rather small, and it had – well, to say escalated is to put it lightly.

Rome had been the first time that Aziraphale had noticed something a little off about Crowley, and if he had known it would go the way it would, maybe he’d have mentioned something, or perhaps not. But alas, Aziraphale had kept quiet, thinking that it was polite to just accept the new little changes, and to act as if there was nothing new. The little leaf vaguely near his ear must have been something that was going to catch on.

As the years went by, Aziraphale found it harder and harder to ignore the changes that Crowley was making to his appearance. It was during a meeting in an alternative bar in Britain in the nineteen-fifties that Aziraphale really started to pay attention – real attention – to these small changes of Crowley’s. You see, Crowley was dressed to the nines, as per usual. Clad in sinfully tight, charmingly torn dark grey jeans, a simple t-shirt and a well-worn leather jacket, he was, well, he was quite the picture. To be frank, the addition of chains and gloves certainly gave Aziraphale’s imagination something to work with. It was hard enough to be around a demon that sauntered around like his lif- his existence depended on it, but to be around a demon that had just had snake bite piercings that he kept playing with with his tongue and oh- now that, that is absolute _agony_. The agony intensifies when the demon doesn’t seem to notice that the way he pulls off his gloves with his teeth sets a certain angel’s heart racing, making the aforementioned poor soul incredibly flustered.

The clothes weren’t the main issue though, the teeny tiny pair of what were unmistakeably sunglasses that were placed onto the teeny tiny snake on Crowley’s right sideburn were the problem. It was ludicrous. It was stupid. Aziraphale didn’t know whether to _love_ or _hate_ it.

After that it all went downhill. The teeny tiny sunglasses were swapped for slightly larger glasses, and then for a teeny tiny bowler hat. The bowler hat was switched out for a moustache in the sixties, and then a tiny flower, and even at one point a pair of jeans were placed on the end of the snake’s tail. Through the years, it had got worse and worse, and each time there was something new Aziraphale refrained from pointing it out. It was fine, for a while, until it started to make noises.

Much like the way the decorations had evolved, so did the noises that the teeny tiny snake on Crowley’s face made. The first time it made a noise was a life-changing experience. They’d been chatting on a bench in a city in Yorkshire about who would do the next miracle-tempt when a small cough came from Crowley. At first Aziraphale wrote it off as Crowley’s doing, but when it happened while Crowley was talking Aziraphale became highly suspicious. It took about ten minutes before Aziraphale noticed that the snake on Crowley’s cheek moved when the coughing was heard. Either Aziraphale was going slightly mad after all this bickering about miracles and temptations, or the snake really had been coughing and wriggling. It was a bit strange, but maybe this was another way that Crowley was using to cause those minor inconveniences – ‘demonic acts’. That was probably it, it was likely meant to irritate those around them. That must be it.

Life went on this way, as life does; a little confusingly, a little sad, but with good times and laughter sprinkled in between the bad. Crowley’s little friend, as Aziraphale had begun to call it, had continued growing bolder and bolder in its little demonstrations. It was starting to be incredibly difficult to not let the tiny smiles or snickers slip from Aziraphale’s lips. There’d been a few times when Aziraphale had had to cover a laugh with a cough or clearing his throat, but it was becoming a more frequent occurrence and Aziraphale didn’t know how much longer he could go on with this charade.

The Armageddon-That-Didn’t had caused a small lapse in the snake antics, but as soon as they’d gotten back to a semblance of a routine, they’d ensued. The hats came back, the jeans sometimes made an occurrence, and the noises had started again. Crowley had been seemingly unbothered the entire time these shenanigans had been going on, and he had seemed to fail to notice the reactions from Aziraphale, which seemed a little strange.

It was a Tuesday night when it happened. Tuesday nights are not traditionally known as a night to get sloshed on, but here they were, two celestial beings, off their tits on a Tuesday. They’d done the old, ‘Ritz and back to the shop?’ routine, and it all seemed well and good, apart from the fact that Crowley’s little friend had a miniature cowboy hat that was adorned with tiny fairy lights. Every time Aziraphale smiled or laughed the lights started to go ballistic. The snake had also taken to blurting out words or short phrases in a high-pitched hiss at inappropriate times. The poor waiter had been trying to sort the bill out when the snake started to squeak, ‘briefcasssse wanker’ at the unsuspecting fellow. Again, Aziraphale couldn’t say anything, but it was more to see how far Crowley would take it; it was like a game. He couldn’t stop the snort that bubbled up at the waiter’s mortified expression though.

They’d made it back to Aziraphale’s, wankered on wine, and they began to argue. Now, it’s very difficult to keep track of your argument while drunk, and it’s even harder when there’s a miniature snake that’s started to scream an imitation of Crowley shouting ‘eternity’ while drunk. Crowley on the other hand was only dealing with the alcohol causing his memory issues. Somewhere along the way, Crowley had discarded his glasses.

“B-bur-but Az, Azi, Aziraphale, you know it was genius!” Crowley had sunken onto the sofa and thrown his leg over one arm.

“Argh, not this one, Crowley, it- it’s,” Aziraphale scrunched his eyes up to try and think, “it was a good idea, buddidunno about it being a-a, uh, a matter of genius.”

Crowley bristled, sitting up, and huffed as he reached to grab the wine from Aziraphale, who’d been tenderly holding the bottle. Aziraphale picked up his glass from the nearby table and stared into his glass.

“Of course it was! I mean, wh- who else would thinka that? No one b-be, down there!” Crowley poured more wine into his glass but half of it somehow slapped onto his lap.

Crowley’s cheek flashed red as it gave out a little shriek of, “Genius!”

Crowley didn’t seem to notice, but Aziraphale had. Crowley continued to mumble to himself about the M25, but Aziraphale couldn’t take his eyes off of the flashing lights on the tiny snake’s cowboy hat. He hadn’t realised it, but Aziraphale was staring. The pure concentration that Aziraphale was applying to the task of trying to keep a focus on the dancing lights and ridiculous set-up that was the snake on Crowley’s right cheekbone was commendable. Without thinking, Aziraphale slipped out of his seat and slid over to Crowley, his drink left forgotten on the floor. Perhaps Crowley really was that drunk, or maybe he was trying to ignore the fact that Aziraphale was mere millimetres from his cheekbone because he started to speak a little louder. The snake also grew in volume.

“A-and I fuckin’, I-I tell ya’, but really, Az, li-listen to me. _I_ made it that shape, and,”

“Crowley.” Aziraphale murmured roughly.

Crowley licked his lips. “Wha’.”

“Your- you, your little,” Aziraphale rummaged for the word, “snake.”

“My what!” Crowley choked out a laugh and spilled wine from his glass. He quickly daubed at the wet patch on his trousers with his shirt.

“Your little- he, the man.” Aziraphale reached up and grabbed Crowley’s face, squishing his cheeks in his hand. “The man.”

“Wha’?” Crowley practically whined.

“The flashing boy, the- the screaming flashing… thing! On your face!”

“Ohhhh, that.” Crowley took another swig of his wine.

“ _Oh, that?_ ” Aziraphale repeated, “ _Oh, that?”_

“Finall-, you noticed him, mm? Taken you aaaaagesss.” Crowley squeezed out between Aziraphale’s fingers.

Aziraphale just stared. He stared at Crowley because the stupidity leaving his mouth was a little, well, stupefying. The years of decorated sideburns were slowly being connected, but they weren’t quite together in Aziraphale’s head yet.

“Wh-wh-wha- who- I notic- I notish- I saw him ages ago!” Aziraphale turned Crowley’s face to look him in the eyes. “How could I not see the-the little,” Aziraphale waved his free hand, “yo-you put little hats, and ‘staches, and-an-an’ he’s practically dancing and doin’ a jig! Didn’t see him!” Aziraphale says with exasperation. “What kinda stupi- what kind of foolish person- I,” Aziraphale bit his lip as Crowley blinked, wide eyed in shock at the outburst, “what kind of person do yo-you take me- do you think I’m blind?”

Floored seems to be an appropriate term for how Aziraphale feels; just utterly and absolutely floored by the idiocy of an immortal, demonic being, whom has had millennia to roam the earth. Crowley has spent hundreds, no, thousands of years around people and demons, thousands of years around _Aziraphale_ , but he apparently still thinks Aziraphale so unobservant as to not spot a bright, dancing and screaming _thing_. A screaming thing that occasionally threw out the very phrases that Crowley uttered, and made him need to cover his mouth with his hand more often than not.

Aziraphale sighed. "Why on earth would you have him like that?” He frowned and gently released his grip on Crowley’s face. “D-do you know how hard it was to not lau-"

"You haven’t said anything before." Crowley huffed, puffing out his cheeks like a child.

"I didn’t think I _needed_ to say anything, I've been choking for the past three millennia trying to keep in my- my laugh, my gig-"

Crowley’s head perked up, and a smile stretched his lips. Angel had been laughing at _him?_ Not _at_ him but at what he’d been doing, at what his little snake friend had been doing.

"You, Anthon-Antun - _Crowley_! You are a fucking fool.” Aziraphale began to stand.

At this moment, Crowley’s snake friend let out a little, “Eternitaaaaayee!”

Aziraphale lost his absolute mind. He guffawed, clutching his stomach. Aziraphale let out a shriek as he tumbled backwards onto the floor. With a hand clutching his cream coloured waistcoat, Aziraphale gasped for breath through his drunken laughter. Crowley was very confused about what was going on, and just stared at his angel choking on the floor. Was this a good result? Was he as dumb as he felt? Probably.

“Am I- What’s- Is this good?”

Crowley barely got a word in edgewise before the tiny snake started up again, but this time he was going hell for leather. Any slightly humorous quote that Crowley had ever said was being recited by the little reptilian friend, and Aziraphale would have suffocated if he needed air. Aziraphale’s entire face was red as he wheezed, and croaked, and moaned. He made several attempts in vain to get the snake to stop, as Crowley just got more and more flustered at the blatant mocking of him.

“Oh lord, heal this biiike.” Squeaked the snake, and Aziraphale nearly vomited.

“A-angel, I-“ Crowley wasn’t sure whether to help Aziraphale or not. On the one-hand _he,_ Anthony J. Crowley, was being teased by his own face. On the other hand, Aziraphale was happy. He was drunk, and happy, and it was making Crowley feel things; Warm fuzzy things, fluttery things, all in his chest, and all refusing to be ignored.

"I was tryin'to to- to.." Crowley licked his lips and tried to keep a track of his thoughts, but the task was proving difficult.

Aziraphale took in a deep breath as the tiny snake finally went quiet. He sat up and hiccupped a few more giggles out as he straightened his clothes.

“To impress you!” Crowley blurted out. Aziraphale wiped a tear from his eye and let out a fond sigh.

"Well, dear boy, it, uh" Aziraphale occasionally let out a laugh, "I don’t know if it impressed me more than it made me nearly have an aneurism trying to keep myself together all these years- You-you’re such an idiot."

The flush on Crowley’s cheeks wouldn’t go away. He felt… embarrassed. He’d made an ass out of himself, and all while he thought he’d been teasing, and managing to get away with increasingly ridiculous fashion accessories. Crowley grumbled to himself as Aziraphale sat down on the sofa next to Crowley. They sat there in the quiet for a while, both trying to think of what to say, and how best to say it. The alcohol has certainly made the retention of thought a much harder task than it needed to be.

Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand, tenderly, into his own."You're an absolute idiot, but that is one of the,” he paused and his lips curled into a smile, “the sweetest things you've done to try and get my atten- my attensh- to try and get me to, you know," he flailed a well-manicured hand, "look at you, ‘nd stuff!” He pulled their foreheads together, an intimate gesture. "You're- You-" he huffed in frustration at trying to find the words, but he’d be damne- he wasn’t going to sober up yet, "I'm seeing you now."

Aziraphale hadn’t quite meant it to come out like that, but in a way, it probably fit better than anything else he could have come up with. It meant that he understood. He gets it. Hell is overcrowded, and there’s so many people around all the time that it’s easy to feel overlooked; that’s without even mentioning the sheer volume of people on _earth_ now too. The crowds had gotten larger and larger over the years, and their jobs were getting more difficult in unexpected ways. Aziraphale had also probably not thought about how this could all feel on top of the whole being cast from heaven aspect of Crowley too; that must have added to a feeling of abandonment, right? Had Aziraphale been unknowingly adding to this? He hadn’t, _had_ he? Aziraphale sighed and closed his eyes. This was difficult to deal with, and that’s ignoring the inebriation.

"You see me?" Crowley whispered.

"Yeah." Aziraphale opened his eyes to be met with bright yellow eyes, staring back at him, almost burning his soul.

Crowley was still struggling with gathering it all and making sense of everything. Had he spent years in a ridiculous courting dance? Had they been skirting around each other for decades? The answer is obviously yes, but Crowley couldn’t accept it, after all, Aziraphale must still think of them as only friends, right?

“Oh, Crowley.” Aziraphale huffs a laugh.

Aziraphale cupped Crowley’s face in his hands, just holding him as if he was the most precious thing in the world, and it _hurt_. To be held so tenderly, to be looked at with such adoration made Crowley’s chest ache with a deep want. The gentle brush of Aziraphale’s thumbs against his cheek made his stomach do flips of ecstasy. Their faces were inches apart. Crowley could feel Aziraphale’s breath against his lips, so tantalisingly close, and yet oh so far away. They’d been like this for centuries, metaphorically. So close, but neither wanted to take the fall.

“Angel, just.” Crowley slithered his hands around Aziraphale’s waist and brushed his hands over Aziraphale’s shoulder.

When Aziraphale suddenly brought their lips together Crowley’s entire brain short-circuited. Electric ran through his entire body as he desperately clutched onto Aziraphale, lips pressing more firmly into Aziraphale’s. Aziraphale hummed and gently pulled away, staying close enough to brush their mouths together as he spoke.

“You’ve no idea how long I-I’ve wanted to do this.” Aziraphale moved his hands over Crowley’s neck, brushing over his collar bones, and finally coming to grab onto Crowley’s shoulders.

“I bet I’ve been waiting longer.” Crowley murmured, afraid that speaking too loudly may break this spell over the both of them.

They clutched onto each other tightly, like the other was their only lifeline. Time had almost slowed, not stopped, but slowed. Neither wanted to part, neither wanted to be the one to let go first. They’d taken so long to get here. Armageddon two-point-oh could have come along, and they’d have refused, preferring to just stay, wrapped up together. Wrapped up in each other.

Aziraphale pulled Crowley onto his lap and gently kissed him again. Crowley was shaking. This couldn’t be real, it was too pure, too soft, too kind to be happening. There was a warmth, a sense of home that hadn’t been there before, and Crowley wasn’t sure that he was allowed it. He was inherently bad, right? He was a demon.

“It’s okay.” Aziraphale wrapped his arms around Crowley, enveloping him. “We’re not going anywhere. We’re okay. You’re okay.”

Crowley curled up against Aziraphale’s chest, fisting his hands into Aziraphale’s clothes. He would be damned if he was going to let anyone even come close to ruining what they had only just started; if that meant fighting all of heaven and hell combined, then he would, just so that he could come back to Aziraphale. Soft Aziraphale. Just so that he could come back home. He’d do whatever it took to be able to curl up with Aziraphale and feel this _safe_ ; this wholly and _completely_ loved.


End file.
